Two Lost Souls
by RosiePosie91
Summary: Here we are… just two addicts crossing the wasteland…


_Here we are… just two addicts crossing the wasteland… a little north, a little south, nothing matters, just gotta keep on walking.  
_

Dirty long hair tumbled from under a helmet as the wearer pulled it from her head. It shone golden in the harsh light. Her head spun, her eyes felt like they were being forced into the back of her head. Calloused but delicate hands rummaged through a pack and quickly found what they were looking for. Something sharp pierced her slightly sweaty skin.

Six sighed as she slid the needle out of her arm. Boone sat on a rock a short distance away with an inhaler in his hand. Neither of them wanted the other to see them indulge their addiction, but they weren't going to let the other out of sight, not with the number of fucking deathclaws lurking around. She'd been jumped by one a couple of days ago, and it had nearly killed her. Her saving grace had been Boone, but she had been severely crippled before he was able to stop it. No matter how many stimpacks you inject yourself with, if you take a mauling that severe, you're gonna hurt.

The hit going through her had started almost instantly. She felt better, clearer, more on top of things, although she knew that the nausea and fuzziness that she'd felt only a few minutes prior had been her body reacting to the chemicals leaving her system. She should have let them go. Stayed clean for a while. Right now that wasn't going to be an option. She needed to be stronger and smarter than everything that was trying to kill her. Not to mention everyone who was trying to kill her.

The Legion had been sending hit squads after them constantly. It made Six nervous despite the fact that she knew that her and Boone could handle the little fuckers. The fact remained that the Legion weren't sending their top guys (hell, not even their mid range guys) out to get them, they were sending the babies, the new recruits, lambs to the slaughter, and there were probably only so many that they would be willing to see dead at their hands before they sent in the big guns and made a proper attempt to end the two of them.

She knew that Boone was happiest when putting a bullet in their skulls. He had put bullets in a lot of people's skulls, but he hated the Legion so much that it almost pained her to see him as he fought them. Boone was never very good at being expressive, those strong silent types made for good snipers she guessed, but the look in his eyes as he nailed legionaries was the scariest thing that she'd ever seen. He was better than that, too good to be fighting those little boys in skirts. He was a true genius when it came to sniping, and instead of putting it to good use for the NCR, here he was, traipsing across the Mojave. Here he was, traipsing across the Mojave to avenge a woman who would have probably left him, if what Six knew about the woman was correct, wasting his life sucking up drugs, and rampaging with a chem addicted ex courier who was also dying to put some bullets in a certain man's head.

_God we are a couple of fuck ups._

She started to pack her shit up, some cans of porknbeans, and a couple of nukacolas had toppled out in her haste to get her hit. Boone let himself slide off the rock and wandered over to her. He wasn't as vocal as she liked her men, but he then again he wasn't her man, he was just a companion in the journey to her revenge. He was someone who could kick more ass than she could, someone who could watch her back, and someone who wasn't about to bitch her out about her constant five finger discounts. She'd keep him around for now.

Six shoved the last of her things into her pack, pulling it closed over a collection of both pre-war and desert shit. The drugs, booze, smokes and food made sense, but pre-war bonnets? Dresses? It wasn't like she had many people to impress, Boone definitely wasn't interested, and while they sometimes came in handy for chatting up men in saloons, she mostly just wore her armour for that – it wasn't like they were especially picky. Being a thin, long haired, young woman with a pretty face meant that she was very seldom denied.

It was always the same, her and Boone would drag their sorry asses into whatever shit hole town happened to appear infront of them, filthy dirty, exhausted, and pumped on whatever drugs had helped them make the last leg of the journey. From there they'd do enough work around the town to make some caps, find somewhere to have a wash (she was yet to find water that wasn't rust colored, but hell, even being a little cleaner was awesome), then they'd find the saloon, sell almost everything that they were carrying, and have a feed. Following that she'd down a bottle of vodka and find herself the least ugly guy in town to disappear with. Boone had told her that it made him nervous when she disappeared, that it wasn't safe. She'd replied with "If I can't live my life without worrying about the Legion, then they may as well have got me already. I won't live in fear." He hadn't bothered her about it since, but she felt moderately guilty every time she slunk back into their room/hovel/camp with a hicky on her neck and a wetness between her thighs.

She'd never seen Boone pick up a girl at a bar… or a guy… or a robot. Maybe he'd been made asexual by the trauma of having his wife kidnapped, as well as probably raped and murdered. He didn't even seem to make friends with his hand while they slept around the campfire. Fucking campfires, Six was accustomed to sleeping rough but that didn't mean that she liked it. She'd sell her right arm for a night on a soft mattress with proper bedding. Although after selling her right arm, that'd probably be her last nights sleep – it's a bit hard to fire a decent gun with one arm.

**"Hey boy-o are you set?"**

Boone nodded and helped her hoist her pack onto her shoulders. The straps pulled against her armor. She grabbed her gun and they set off into the wasteland again. The hard ground not yielding even a little against their feet.


End file.
